


Dans de Sânge

by songquake



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-02
Updated: 2013-02-02
Packaged: 2017-11-27 21:28:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/666682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/songquake/pseuds/songquake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><b><span>Dans de Sânge</span>:</b> Charlie Weasley didn't just go to Romania to study dragons; he also went for the vampires.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dans de Sânge

**Author's Note:**

  * For [luvscharlie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/luvscharlie/gifts).



> Written for the inaugural round of Samhain_Smut on LJ in 2010. 
> 
> **Warnings/Content:** BDSM (though nothing _deadly_ , mind), blood sports (hello, it's a vampire!fic), unusual use of magic, toys.
> 
> Many pet names and comments used between the two central characters are in Romanian; if you hover over the Romanian words, you can read the English equivalent.
> 
> Thanks to Luvscharlie for both the prompt and the beta!

Charlie Weasley scrubbed his face as he landed at the International Floo Port after making his good-byes at the Burrow. He knew his mum worried, but seriously, did she really think that crying and giving him wet, sloppy kisses on his cheek would make him feel extra-loved, or make him stay? He wondered whether his father would ever be able to explain the lure of adventure to her. 

Then again, Dad likely didn't understand, quite, either. He was supportive, yes, but _his_ idea of adventure was a joyride in that auto he'd magicked to fly around. If only the modifications had worked. 

Mum… she worried about her children. Too much, in Charlie's opinion. _Thank goodness for Hogwarts,_ Charlie reflected. Mum's idea of Care of Magical Creatures was laughable: she thought learning to de-gnome a garden and create a magical barrier for the chickens was enough to be getting on with, thank-you-very-much, except for when it was useful to persuade the ghoul in the attic to frighten away Aunt Muriel; she'd usually ask him or Bill to go fetch it. Charlie expected the old bat (Auntie Muriel, not the ghoul) was onto Mum's ways, but was too amused by it to say anything yet. In any case, Mum didn't often think it a good idea for Charlie to play with the ghoul, even though he was mostly just a mess of moans and drippy bits.

Too careful by half, Mum and Dad were. They hadn't even wanted their children to play with brooms! 

…Or perhaps that was Mum again. Charlie just remembered the time she and Dad had come into the Burrow's back garden to see the two of them—him and Bill again – up in the air with Uncles Gideon and Fabian. They'd been sent off to dig up gnomes (and him yet too young for crèche school!) whilst Mum lay into her brothers. 'Course, Uncle Gideon _had_ been attempting a Sloth-Grip Roll with Bill also around his broomstick, but Bill hadn't seemed to mind. 

Mum's fear of broom-flying children was even harder to bear when all Bill and Charlie had left of their uncles was the broomsticks bequeathed to them. Charlie hadn't always thought so much about it, but at eighteen, he was willing to bet missing them was why he and Bill had been so Quidditch-crazy. 

Quidditch wasn't nearly enough of a thrill for him anymore, though; being Gryffindor Seeker was fun and all, but not nearly so much as riding a dragon had been when he, Tonks and their friend Jeremy Ollivander had got to fly on _dragons_ whilst on holiday in the Outer Hebrides. Now dragon-riding – that was a fun hobby! 

It also happened to be rather illegal, as well as rather more dangerous than even Charlie was willing to undertake without proper guidance…at least the second time. 

Having attained grades of 'O' for his Care of Magical Creatures and Defence Against the Dark Arts N.E.W.T.s, Charlie had been well-positioned to apply for an apprenticeship in Romania. He had been selected from among several strong applicants from Wizarding schools all over the world to study dragon keeping under Pyrophilios Zbura, a good friend of Professor Kettleburn. 

Charlie's independent research projects for Care of Magical Creatures had certainly paid off. 

Grabbing his rucksack and broomcase, Charlie looked about the Receiving Room of the Bucharest Floo Port. He was supposed to be greeted by Master Zbura here; he cursed himself for not owling to get an address for the Dragon Reserve or at least a description of his mentor. Then again, the letter he'd received from Master Zbura had made it seem as though there would be no trouble on that front. 

"Mr Weasley!" Charlie heard as he exited the Receiving Room. He wasn't sure what he had expected, but an American accent to go with the name ' _Zbura_ ' was not it. 

"Master Zbura?" he inquired, and the man stuck out his hand. 

"Yeah. Charlie Weasley, right?" Pyrophilios Zbura shook Charlie's hand enthusiastically. "No need to be so formal, though; call me Phil, okay?" 

"Okay. Phil." Charlie wasn't quite sure what to make of his new mentor. The man was dressed in dragonhide trousers and jacket, but underneath the jacket he wore a faded 'Cure' T-shirt. His hair was long, almost as stringy as Snape's, and caught in a low ponytail that bushed out from its elastic. His hands were strong, rough, and stained slightly yellow. Charlie could see a packet of fags in the front pocket of Phil's jacket. He wore eyeliner. 

Charlie was, obviously, staring. 

Phil caught this at once and laughed openly. "Guess you'd expected to see someone a little, what, older? Wizened?" 

Chuckling, Charlie replied, "I guess so. Since Professor Kettleburn said you were a good friend of his, and all." 

"That old man?" Phil snorted. "Yeah, we're friends, but more in a mentor-apprentice sort of way. I accompanied him on his sabbatical my first year after the Salem Institute. Which was, you know, ten years ago or something. But the old man couldn't handle dragon-wrangling. Even ten years ago, one toss from a Ridgeback would've broken all his bones! The dude is ancient!" 

Charlie's eyebrows rose, both at the fact that his Master was so informal and that he would be so flippant about his own mentor. "There's that much hands-on work, then?" he asked. 

"Of course there is! Isn't that why you came all the way out here, rather than sit over in the Department for Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures or working in the Magical Menagerie or whatever?"

"Of course!" Charlie sputtered. "Of course! Only, I hadn't realised there was so much of a threat of getting _thrown_ by a dragon, is all." 

"What, Weasley – chicken?" Phil said, flapping his arms. "Thought you were the most adventurous of the entire bunch that applied for this apprenticeship; Silvanus gave me the impression you were the most adventurous of the Hogwarts applicants, at least. Please don't tell me you're gonna get skittish. That's not a good quality in someone who wants to work with dragons." 

"What – no!" Charlie exclaimed. "I'm just surprised. I'd have thought that folks at the Reserve would discourage dragon-riding. Using dragons for fun. That sort of thing." 

Phil eyed him. "Well, we don't do it for _fun_ ," he conceded. "But if they go far astray, it's much easier to fly home on their backs than to sedate them and try to Portkey them home. And there's nothing wrong with fun being a side-benefit of your job, is there?" 

"Oh." Yes, that did make sense. "Can't wait to learn how to wrangle them proper, then," Charlie said, grinning. This was going to be _great_.

~♥~

Charlie thought Romania wasn't a very large country. He was half-convinced that the Dragon Reserve occupied at least a third of its land. It would have to, he reasoned, being as big as it felt. There was no other way he could get lost on its grounds so often during his first month – on _broomstick_ , no less – without the Reserve being at least as large as Wales, and that wasn't even including the distance the Reserve must have been from any Muggle-inhabited areas.

Phil, of course, laughed at Charlie outright and called him 'cute' when he'd speculated about that aloud.

"But the Muggles –" Charlie protested.

"—Are rather thin on the ground, buddy. They all got scared off last century, those who hadn't intermarried with magical folk, and the rise of General Ceauşescu chased off many of the rest. Anyway, Romania's nowhere near as tiny as you seem to think. Bucharest has at least twice as many people as Edinburgh, to be sure, and gives Vienna a run for its money." 

"Seriously?" 

"Seriously. So the fact that you can get lost on broomstick here isn't a good indicator of the size of the country." 

Charlie grunted. Fair enough. Wiping his brow, he realised he'd probably just got soot all over his face. "Ugh. I need a shower, mate. Then dinner, right?" 

It was a rhetorical question; his routine at the reserve was almost unwavering. This is what it looked like: Rise early with the hunting roars of the dragons, eat a large breakfast, check on the status of the various nests, get lost before lunch (and therefore eat the emergency pack of food all the dragon-keepers kept with them), eventually find Phil to learn what his afternoon duties would be, variously survey a section of the grounds for hurt dragons or muck out the pens in the dragon infirmary, tend to broomstick and other equipment maintenance, shower, eat dinner, and go to sleep.

He was thrilled to be doing such exciting work (flying _and_ dragons – what more could a bloke want from a job?), but chronically exhausted. He'd usually sleep entirely through his first day off, and halfway through his second. 

This weekend, two full months into his internship and coinciding with Halloween (a company holiday), would be the first time he'd have three consecutive days off. 

"Yeah, dinner's at Dvora's," Phil said. "And I was thinking that maybe after, I could show you around town a bit. There are plenty of Halloween parties going on this weekend – it's a good way to meet people. You can't let the dragons be your only company." 

_Not that you've given me any opportunity to make friends otherwise; the dragons have very much been the only creatures around to speak with!_ Charlie whinged in his mind. He didn't want to seem ungrateful, though, so he responded with a question so inane it might even mask his interest in leaving the Reserve. 

"Town? Which town would that be?"

"Bucharest."

"I thought you said that the country was bigger than I thought!"

Phil laughed again. "Are you a wizard or not?" he asked. "I'll Side-Along you to the Wizarding district."

The conversation over Dvora's more than serviceable stew was lively and free-wheeling. When Phil mentioned his intention to take Charlie "out on the town," the table roared. 

"What'ya wanna do, Charlie, get so drunk poor Phil needs to Floo you home in a stretcher?"

"Nah – I bet he's hoping to meet up with some lady and rent a room!"

"Careful of the masquerades – you never know who is behind the mask! Then again, if you don't take the masks off, you don't need to know!"

"Remember to look careful at any drinks people buy you; you're too young and beautiful to let it all go!" 

"What?" Charlie asked, flummoxed at the rough talk from male and female dragon keepers alike. 

"Well, Charlie," Dvora explained as she scooped some more stew into his bowl, "we all know you must be interested in the exciting things. You are a Seeker for, what do you English say? Thrills. Yes. You are a Seeker for the thrills, same like all of us." 

Charlie smiled up at Dvora. English was her fourth language, and Charlie very much appreciated her effort to use it with him. "Oh!" he said. "Yes, I reckon you're right!" 

"So what would be your thrill, Charlie?" Phil asked him, leaning in. "No shame, here!" 

Charlie took a deep breath. _No shame, here,_ he repeated to himself. "I, er... Well, I'd always heard that Romania, well... It used to be Transylvania, right? And I'd heard... you know..."

Phil groaned as the rest of the table let up another roar. "You're here for the vampires, aren't you?" he said. 

"Too predictable!" chortled Ji-Minh, pounding the table, her well-inked arm flexing its muscles.

Phil's head was in his hands. Charlie looked at him, wrinkling his own brow. _Does this mean that Phil won't want to take me there? Well, maybe someone else..._

"Eh, do not have worry about him," Dvora said, placing her hand on Charlie's shoulder. "Phil has lost his bet. Also, he is remembering when he only wanted the vampires too."

Phil raised his head and nodded. "It's a curse," he grumbled. "Now that I've got it out of my own system, every single assistant I get is a vampire-maniac." 

"Mate, I can't be a maniac – I've never even met a vampire yet!" Charlie said. The crowd roared again.

"He says that now!" Ji-Minh said again. The others gathered, nodded and mumbled their agreement.

~*♥*~

That was how Charlie, dressed in Ishmael's _very_ tight dragon-hide trousers and a tight black T-shirt Fred and George had bought him that read " _Halloween Special: Ride My Broomstick FREE_ ", ended up at a "dance" club called    
_Cuib_   
. Phil had asked him if he preferred men or women and then given him a not-too-brief list of instructions.

"Don't drink anything you haven't retrieved from the bar yourself; make sure you know a vampire's name before you do anything more than dance; if you're not sure whether someone you're dancing with wants to eat you, get close to one of the mirrors; keep your wits about you; _negotiate_ the terms of your involvement; and if you feel panicky or disrespected, _use your emergency Portkey._ " He slid a bracelet with a stylized dragon charm past Charlie's hand and onto his wrist. "It'll take you back to the room the reserve lets for its staff to crash in when we come to town." Phil paused again. "I'm gonna be at the straight club, _Bârlog_ , across the street. The bartenders and bouncers at both clubs know me; ask them to find me if you aren't in immediate danger but feel nervous or in over your head. Safety in numbers, and all." 

He paused a moment, then added, "And listen, on Halloween, a lot of the crazies come out. They'll not go into _Cuib_ , but be careful as you're leaving, especially if you leave alone." 

"They don't like vampire-seekers?" Charlie asked.

"More that they don't like queers. And Halloween is a day on which dress-up is allowed, so it's got a reputation for being, well, 'A faggot's favourite festival' around here." 

"Oh." Fuck. He hadn't thought about homophobia since leaving England; the folks at the Reserve were bound so closely by the experience of living among dragons that any differences that didn't endanger other members of the group were considered benign personality traits. "Yeah, I'll watch my back. Thanks for the reminder."

Then Phil had _Apparated_ them into an alley in what looked to be the heart of Old Bucharest, and pointed at the neon sign blinking " _Cuib_." 

"Go on," he said, turning toward the heterosexual side of the street. "You won't catch anyone by standing out here alone." 

Charlie watched his young mentor enter _Bârlog_ , surprised that he would be left out here in public. He scrubbed his hand through his hair, rendering his careful coiffure into sticky ginger spikes as he looked at the club _he_ was meant to enter. There was something off about the gentleman working the door. 

He was dressed neatly, in a suit and tie, which in itself was odd for someone working as a bouncer. But that wasn't what disconcerted Charlie. Not entirely. 

The man stood in shadows, except for when the light from the neon sign flashed across his face. When it did, that pale blue sheen was all the colour lent to the man's features. His outfit, his body, his hair were like an inked cartoon of black against glacial blue. 

_Of course a vampire would be working the door,_ Charlie chided himself. _Who else would the vampires trust to keep them safe?_

He shivered, unsure whether to credit his trembling to excitement or fear. A bit of each, perhaps. _Here goes nothing,_ he thought, taking a steadying breath as he crossed the street. 

There had been no problems entering, of course, and now Charlie was leaning with an elbow on the bar, savouring his glass of _ţuică_. The bartender had looked at him, asked, "First time?" and deftly slid a glass of the plum brandy to him. "If you want something else, let me know, but most new men want the traditional drink."

Charlie had nodded and slid his _lei_ across the table to pay for the drink. 

He grinned to himself as he examined the _ţuică_ again. _I bet most of the poor sods who order this think it'll look like they're drinking blood, too,_ he thought, amused by the idea of vampire-seekers being disappointed that their spirit of choice didn't help them "blend in" at all. He conveniently forgot that he'd hoped to do something similar. Then again, when he thought about it, he supposed that it was daft to imagine vampires sitting around drinking snifters of blood, anyway.

Inhaling the aroma of plums once more, Charlie took a small swallow of the wine. He blinked, eyes watering. 

"Ah, it is a stronger drink than you were expecting, no?" a voice behind him said. 

Charlie turned, gasping as his breath tried to catch whilst his oesophagus still burned. The conflict emerged as a harsh cough. 

But _fuck_ , this bloke was fit! Charlie's jaw would have dropped but for the wheezing. 

The man chuckled, warm and dark. "I did not mean to startle you," he said. "I just know that Antoniou likes to start our pretty, new visitors with the strongest spirit. This is _ţuică_ you drink?" 

Charlie nodded. 

"Only way to get this down is to drink it all at once. A 'shot,' I believe it is called." 

Charlie nodded again, then realised he might want to speak. "Yes. I'll try that." He threw back the rest of his shot – or perhaps double-shot; how many fingers had he started out with? It burnt worse than Firewhisky going down, but left him feeling…healthier? Energetic, certainly. And eager to get going. 

"Are you a vampire?" he asked the man chatting him up. 

The man chuckled again, his shoulders shaking. "Did your mother not tell you it is not mannerly to ask such questions?" 

"No." Charlie swallowed his drink. "My mum taught me to stay the hell away from Dark creatures. Fortunately, I never was much good at following rules when they got in the way of fun." 

"Hm, and you never think that perhaps your mum has a good advice?" 

Charlie huffed. "Of _course_ she has good advice. But if I'd wanted life to live by good advice, I'd have stayed at home." 

"And instead, you came here," the vampire (Charlie was sure he was a vampire) said. "You are correct, of course, both that I am a vampire and that you are more possible to find something unexpected here."

"Brilliant!" Charlie grinned again and gestured to Antoniou for another round. "May I buy you a drink?" 

The vampire smiled with amusement, then paused. "No, you may not _buy_ me a drink." 

It took a moment for the meaning of the vampire's words to register. "Oh!" Charlie exclaimed again, feeling his blood rush across his face. Really, he'd need to take a firmer hold of his reactions soon. Transparent as Spello-Tape, he was.

"You have a lovely blush," the vampire commented.

Charlie's cheeks burnt redder. "Thanks," he stuttered. He looked, really _looked_ at his companion for the first time. 

The vampire was taller than Charlie, and slim. Where Charlie was strength and muscle, the vampire was grace and sinew; where Charlie was all bright reds and oranges, the vampire was darkness and moonlight. Charlie had always thought that persons who wrote about 'alabaster skin' had been using rhetorical flourishes, but ' _alabaster_ ' was the only word he could think of to describe this creature's complexion. It was so pale as to seem fragile, easily eroded in its soft pallor. In the dark of the club, Charlie could not tell the colour of the eyes set below arched eyebrows, but they conveyed both seriousness and power. Despite the apparently fluid motions, the vampire gave off an impression of power coiled and ready to strike.

His mouth looked as though all it could do was indulge: in food, in sex, in words...in blood. 

This vampire was the embodiment of erotic decadence, and Charlie wanted to be wanted by him. What might follow that desire felt immaterial. 

Charlie looked into the vampire's eyes for a moment, then ducked his head again. He brought his second shot of _ţuică_ to his mouth, darting his tongue out to taste the fiery plum before exhaling, leaning back, and gulping down the shot. 

"I've never seen a man as beautiful and strong as you," he said, lowering his gaze again. He felt cool fingers beneath his jaw and chin, guiding his head back up. He let them; compliance seemed the most natural attitude in the world. 

"I am curious," said the vampire, "whether you are always so... soft? Yielding." 

Charlie's eyes jerked up in their sockets even as his face leant further into the vampire's touch. "It is not yielding, _domn_." Somehow, it seemed proper to address this magnificent creature formally. "It is seeking." 

"And what is it you seek?" The vampire's hand had travelled to Charlie's elbow, and manoeuvred them both away from the crowded, noisy bar and into the shadowy corners, where the walls were draped in lush tapestries and traditional woven textiles. 

Charlie leant against the wall, the slightly-rough weave against the backs of his arms a grounding counterpoint to the silky grace of his companion. He inhaled and exhaled through his nose, feeling himself become more intoxicated by the closeness of the other. 

"I... I'm not sure, _domn_. Please, what would you like me to find?" 

Charlie reached out, hoping to make contact with the vampire's hands, chest, face, arse, _anything_. Instead, he found himself spun around to face the wall, his head turning so as to breathe and to hear. 

The vampire nearly spat his next questions. "Are you one of the ones who seeks us out because you think that if you can blame us, blame the Thrall, you can avoid responsibility for your actions? Are you one of those who has given up on living a long and healthy life and instead prefers a quick, pleasurable demise?"

Though the words and their tone spoke of a certain world-weariness, the actions of the man behind Charlie did not. As Charlie shook his head in denial, the vampire leant in until Charlie tipped his head back, closing his eyes and surrendering his neck. The vampire sniffed his pulse point. "Mm. You don't smell infected. I don't drink _dirty_ blood."

"Mm?" Charlie opened his eyes in surprise at the _suctus interruptus_. "Dirty blood? What does _that_ matter? And anyway, both the Weasley and Prewett lines have been traced back almost to Merlin..." 

The sound of the vampire's laugh was eerie; it was both rich as a cello and resonant as a gong. It reminded Charlie of the sound of Uncles Gideon and Fabian laughing when they had brought him and Bill to see the flat they planned to rent. 

"A wizard, yes," the vampire chuckled, his hands hovering over the outside of Charlie's thighs before he brought them to whisper, never touching, up past Charlie's arse to his torso and down again. "Wizard, should you seek human satisfaction, be wary: there are diseases that prey on homosexual men." 

"And you, _domn_?" Charlie whispered, trembling. He took a deep, shuddering breath, hoping the extra air might cause his very body to expand and touch this sexy beast. 

"I also prey on homosexual men," the vampire murmured into Charlie's ear, perfectly clear despite the pounding bass of the club. He swiftly grabbed Charlie's wrists, pulling his hands from the wall and capturing them in one hand above Charlie's head. He pulled the young man to him, wrapping his other arm tightly, possessively, around Charlie's waist. 

Charlie could feel the vampire's cock pressing into his arse, the vampire's lips near his jugular, and moaned. 

"But for now," the vampire said, releasing Charlie suddenly, "let's dance."

~♥~

As he danced with the vampire, the mass of bodies living and undead pulsed to the throaty divas of house music. Charlie wanted more and more to surrender to the rhythm and to the vampire whose attention he'd captured.

'I chased him 'til he caught me', Mum used to say about his parents' courtship, and Charlie wondered whether this would also be the vampire's expectation. He turned and ground his arse against the vampire's groin, feeling the creature behind him dip his own head back before placing his hands on Charlie's hips and leaning in to breathe on his neck again. When Charlie tried to pull away, turning, the vampire's fingers dug into his hips with a near-bruising pressure. 

Charlie did not find this at all disagreeable. 

Between them and the mirrored wall stood many vampires, but all Charlie could see were the reflections of himself and several other lucky sods – a few birds, too; it was a mixed club for homosexual vampire-seekers – writhing in tantalizing abandon on the dance floor. Without their dance partners, these mortals in the mirrors were an unbelievably erotic tableau of blissful surrender. 

He was grateful that the man grinding against him was likewise invisible; it made it more likely that Charlie would get what he'd come for.

When he returned his gaze to the dance floor, the predatory – _proprietary_ – demeanours of the vampires made his breath catch. His blood felt as though its own cells were swelling inside his veins rather than merely rushing to his cock, his nipples, his pulse points. 

_It must be the power of the ambient thrall..._

Seeming to read Charlie's mind, the vampire embracing him, _caging_ him with his arms, laughed softly and said, "You want to think it, _this_ ," he said, cupping Charlie's erection as his other hand slid up to collar Charlie's throat, pressing into his windpipe, "Is beyond your control. You want to think none of you has a choice here." The vampire pressed both spots hard enough that nobody could plausibly deny the control he had over Charlie's pleasure and, indeed, _life_ \-- unless they realised how well the wizard was pressing back, squirming into the touch of his vampire 'captor' rather than away.

"You _always_ have a choice here," the vampire hissed, releasing Charlie so quickly that he stumbled, wheezing. 

Charlie turned to stare at the pale, masculine form. It was elegant, _lithe_ , and thrummed with something Charlie couldn't name. Tendrils of power rose from the relaxed form of the vampire; Charlie could nearly _see_ them curling around him. 

"I have a choice," he finally acknowledged, raising his blue eyes to accept the challenge. "I choose to seek the danger and accept what comes." 

"Good." The vampire gazed seriously at Charlie, seeming to verify his quarry's willingness to continue. "For the sort of activities I think we both want, we should retire into one of the special back rooms." He took Charlie's hand and made to leave the dance floor, but Charlie stood, unmoving, where he was. 

"There is a problem?" the vampire asked as he came close again.

Charlie shook his head, blushing again. "I very much would like to go to the back with you, _domn_ ," he said. "Only, might you please tell me your name? I've never done something like this anonymously." 

The vampire jerked Charlie's hand to his own chest, causing Charlie to turn, quickly, toward his chest. "You are cleverer than most, little one," he said, sucking a bit behind Charlie's ear. "You are another Dragon-tamer, one of Zbura's, then?" 

"Excuse me?" 

"He always makes sure his friends ask the name of any vampire they decide to play with. He thinks it keeps you safe."

"Er... does it?" Charlie asked, a bit nervously. 

"Well, it will make it easier to find me again, should you have need. And Zbura seems to think that knowing a vampire's name puts you on more equal ground with us, in our minds. But merely knowing a vampire's name wouldn't prevent one from draining you dead, no."

"I'd like to know your name, anyway. My name is Charlie Weasley." 

The vampire sighed. "And I am called 'Vlad.'" Charlie's eyes widened, and Vlad raised his hands in the universal signal for 'hear me out'. "Not him. Many of us vampires take on that as a new name when we are still young to our nature. Clichéd, I know, but it is how I started to think of myself back when I was first turned, and I have long since abandoned any other name." 

"Right." Charlie wasn't sure whether this was quite a good idea anymore. Vlad the Impaler was this bloke's role model? That did not bode well for him as a prospective meal. Though Vlad was tugging on his hand again, Charlie followed at a speed that exposed his newfound hesitation. 

Vlad sighed, an action to which Charlie was fast becoming accustomed. "Are you coming, or have you changed your mind?" They had reached the edge of the crowd, so Vlad's voice was more audible, and Charlie could now discern inflections; he could hear more than a trace of impatience in the vampire's voice and see annoyance in his mien.

"I—I'm not sure, Vlad. I think I'd not really considered _what_ and _whom_ I was seeking." Charlie could now see that Phil's advice served a second purpose: it was like a braking charm, keeping the broomstick of this encounter from crashing and causing irreparable harm to the flyer. "How can I be sure you won't drain me of my life's blood?" 

Vlad pulled him close. "You must learn to trust me when I say I won't." Charlie shivered in his arms. "But," Vlad said as he released Charlie, "there are so many defences you can make once we are in one of the back rooms." He nodded to the corridor, dimly lit by a sconce above each door; some glowed red, some green. "Shall we go into one and make our agreement?" 

Squaring his shoulders and mustering all his courage (and letting the nervous excitement in his belly once again travel to his cock), Charlie nodded. "Yes," he said. 

Vlad nodded, businesslike. "Good," he said, and led Charlie to one of the rooms lit by a green sconce. As he opened the door, the sconce began to glow red. 

"Clever idea," Charlie said. 

"Yes, I thought that when I charmed them so." 

Charlie started. " _You_ charmed them? Who are you, anyway? Who are you to this club?"

They entered a room that was shocking in its paradoxical austerity; decorated with deep purple walls, flagstone floors and the wood door with its iron fixtures, the room was utterly empty. 

"Not that it should matter to you, but I was one of the seven vampires who started this place as a meeting point for us and willing human prey. Bucharest is just..." he paused, seeming to search for the right English word, " _crawling_ with willing victims. If there is one thing Stoker did for us, it was name an area humans could start in when seeking vampires. Though many humans seem to think we only inhabit sewers and castles for some reason." 

He paused as Charlie took in this information. Tilting his head, Vlad said, "I think we do need to speak a bit more before we...play. Yes, Charlie?" 

"Yes, we should talk," Charlie said, and two wingback chairs with deep green upholstery appeared in front of a fireplace Charlie hadn't noticed before. Charlie's eyebrows shot up until they were almost hidden by his sweaty, sticky fringe. "What sort of magic is _that_?" he asked. 

"The room is charmed to provide anything that all parties in the room think is needed." 

Charlie was impressed, and said so. "I've heard of rooms somewhat like this, but haven't ever been in one," he said. 

"Yes," said Vlad. "It does take a fair amount of magical energy to create one, and we need to boost it once a year. But we have found that the rooms are worth the investment of power. Shall we see what the room provides for us?" 

Charlie nodded, continuing to stand, his eyes moving from the seats to Vlad.

" _Sit_ ," Vlad ordered. 

Charlie sat. He was not sure how he'd managed to move so quickly without Apparating, but his bum was seated in one of the sturdy chairs almost immediately. 

"Good..." Vlad purred. "I like a man who will follow instructions enthusiastically."

Charlie blushed, unsure whether there _was_ a proper response to that. It seemed not, as Vlad crossed behind him toward the other chair, running his fingers through Charlie's mess of a hairdo and pulling his head around to face the other chair directly. The younger man felt his body quake, shuddering in anticipation. 

"You like that, do you, Charlie?" Vlad stated more than asked. He reached over and pulled Charlie's hair again. 

Charlie moaned and offered his neck.

"Ah, ah, ah," Vlad chided. "First we must speak over what it is you want, what you do not want. As I said, the room will give us what we need, and help us with our games. So. You shall begin. What, ah, _limits_ do you have?" 

"Er, I don't quite know, _domn_ ," Charlie said, momentarily drawing a blank. "I don't want you to kill me."

The vampire chuckled. "But of course." 

"And... well, drinking my blood will make me weak, won't it? So I need to keep enough so that I will not be too weak to work on Tuesday."

"Very sensible. Anything else? Anything you would find too scary? Too grotesque? Roles you do not want to play?" 

Another blank. Charlie just stared at Vlad. 

Vlad nodded. "While we are speaking, you may add conditions when you will think of them." He circled around Charlie's chair like a wild cat whose prey was trapped. "As for myself," he continued, "I have said that I do not like dirty blood. I do not like dirty fluids of any type. Nor...growing things. Have you had infections at all recently?"

"Elf Flu, last winter," Charlie said. "I caught it from the kitchen elves at Hogwarts." 

Vlad let out a low whistle. "You are a... baby in the forest, then," he said. 

"Babe in the woods," Charlie corrected, "and... well, I _am_ young. But I'm of age! And I've experienced things!" 

The vampire laughed aloud at Charlie's protests. "Of course, _copil_. You have experienced...things. But nothing quite like what we shall be doing, no?" 

"No." Charlie lowered his eyes, blushing harder. 

Vlad nodded. "So, you have been healthy – Elf Flu is not a problem for me, very much because it is mild and you had it a long time ago. What about sicknesses a man gets from sex?" 

Charlie shook his head vehemently. "Not even scrofungulus!" he said. 

"Excellent," Vlad said, crouching again so as to reach between Charlie's legs. "It would be so sad to have to stay away from these." He traced up the inseam of Charlie's trousers with his fingers until he arrived at the bollocks beneath, then pressed his knuckles into them, massaging hard. 

Charlie thought he would die or come right then, but Vlad just as suddenly moved away again. 

"And what is it you _want_?"

Charlie couldn't think through the ringing in his ears. He ducked his head, feeling his face and ears burn, and heard the sound of Vlad inhaling sharply through his nose. "Do I smell different when I blush, _domn_?"

"Only more. It's headier. No...ah, pun? Yes. No pun meant."

Chuckling, Charlie grinned and said, "I'm glad you like the way I smell. I think I might enjoy having you smell me all over."

"Like this, Charlie?" Vlad slid to the floor, kneeling, and began sniffing up Charlie's leather-clad feet and legs. "I must say, you look absolutely _edible_ in these trousers, but would smell better without them." He pushed Charlie's hand away from the zip. "Not yet, young one. Not yet." He paused. "Keep your hands on the arms of the chair, please, and tell me what you imagine us doing tonight."

At the order, Charlie felt an even stronger pulse in his groin. He gasped as Vlad pushed his legs as far open as the chair would allow. 

"What is it that you fantasise about, Charlie? Last chance." Vlad swatted him lightly on his left flank. Charlie was amazed at the even tone the vampire maintained.

He shook his head briefly to clear it. 

"My fantasies... I would like to be physically controlled. Dominated. Told what to do and punished when I don't – can't – do it. Punished for displeasing you. I like that you've been ordering me around."

"Mm, yes. I can see that," Vlad said, staring at the outline of Charlie's cock straining the leather above it. He leant in and inhaled deeply where he could see the crown inside Charlie's trouser leg. 

Taking a breath that sounded _almost_ like a whimper, Charlie squeaked out, "Mm-hm? ...Yeah. And I also like the idea of being held down somehow, just... being completely vulnerable."

A gleaming steel cart appeared to Charlie's right. Already laid on it were ropes of differing colours and textures, cuffs, manacles, chains, and an assortment of collars and harnesses. Charlie, having turned his head at the _pop_ of the table's appearance, widened his eyes.

Vlad glanced over to the table. "Hm," he said. "Those _are_ interesting. Do you know which you prefer?"

"No, _domn_ ," he said, reverting to the formal address. 

"Then you will not object to leather and rope? I prefer to do all the marking and hurting myself," Vlad said, looking into Charlie's eyes. "The truth, Charlie." 

Charlie's hands had tightened on the corner of the chair's arm again. "That sounds very sexy, _domn_." 

Vlad smiled and waved at the cart. All the restraints likely to mar Charlie's skin disappeared. "Now, Charlie, what do you fantasise about, other than being restrained and bitten?" 

"Following orders," Charlie whispered. "Pain. Being used."

"And," Vlad followed, "do you prefer sting? Or thud?" 

" _Domn_?" 

Vlad's eyes widened just a fraction before he chuckled. "You are, how do you call it in your language... yellow? Very inexperienced, are you not?"

Charlie blushed. "We say 'green', _domn_."

"And are you, as you say, green?"

Charlie felt his face burn even hotter. "Yes, _domn_. I've never asked for what I really want." 

"Ah." The vampire's sigh was more like a hiss across Charlie's skin, despite the fact that he'd moved away from Charlie to examine the restraints a moment earlier. "I am honoured to be the first to claim you, then. If just for tonight." 

"Thank you, _domn_."

Vlad smiled, his incisors glinting in the low light of the room. "Now, do you think you would prefer the sting of a whip, the thud of a thick flogger? A slap? A punch?" Seeing Charlie hesitate to answer, he continued. "Would you like a combination, perhaps: some thuds and then some stings?"

"I... I am not sure, _domn_ ," Charlie confessed. "I think I like sharp pain, quick."

"That is excellent news for both of us," Vlad said, "for the pain of the bite is both. But do you prefer your sensations to be narrow or wide? I must know this, or that we must try many things, before we begin."

Silence. 

Finally, "I dream of slaps, and of knives, and of whips, _domn_ ," Charlie said, raising his head to meet his vampire's eyes. "I expect that makes me partial to the sting."

"Yes," Vlad hissed again, and shiny-sharp instruments appeared on the cart. A scalpel. A knife with a handle of old worked wood. A leather whip with a tip split like a snake's tongue. A small, spiked wheel on a handle of six inches or so. Needles and rings. 

It took all Charlie's energy not to hyperventilate in excitement. He tried to suck air slowly through his nose, so as not to appear as weak as he felt before such implements. 

Vlad was not as inobservant as Charlie might have wished. "You might breathe through the mouth, _dulce băiat_ ," he said. "I do not prefer you falling faint." 

Charlie exhaled quickly before spending a moment re-regulating his breath. _In-two-three-four, out-two-three-four. In-two-three-four, out-two-three-four._ His vision and his mind cleared again. _Thank Merlin._

"I am better now," he said. 

"Good." Vlad paused for a moment to examine the tools at his disposal. "I think you have met most of these," he waited for Charlie's nod, "or can know what they do. You know this?"

Vlad held up the coiled whip. Charlie could see the weave of the leather, the working of the handle. He took a shuddering breath and nodded.

"Do you most wish to be whipped, young Charlie?"

Charlie wrinkled his brow. "I – don't know. Why do you ask?" 

Vlad's voice lowered. "I would prefer," he said, "to deliver all your sensations more.... intimately." 

Charlie bit his lip as he succeeded in restraining his impulse to climax right then and there. " _Unf,_ " was all he could say. 

Dark laughter bubbled from Vlad once more. "I understand that this is acceptable?"

Charlie nodded enthusiastically. _Fuck_ , yeah. 

Vlad laid the whip back where he'd got it. "Now, do you know this?" He levitated the spiked wheel and directed it to Charlie for examination. 

"No, _domn_ ," Charlie said. The instrument glinted menacingly. 

"It is what Muggles call a Wartenburg wheel. Their Healers use it to check for sensation. Would you like to feel?" 

Charlie nodded, so Vlad took the wheel in hand and ran it across his forearm. It...didn't hurt. Rather, it felt like a prickly line of pressure making its way up to the inside of his elbow and around his upper arm. His face relaxed before contracting in disappointment. 

"Not what you expected, is it?" Vlad said, pulling back and using his index finger to direct the patterns the wheel drew on Charlie's left arm, and then to float it to the right. 

"No, _domn_ , Charlie said. "I thought it would hurt me at least a bit."

Vlad nodded. "Would you prefer that? And perhaps blood?" 

" _Please_ , _domn_."

As Vlad continued to lead the wheel in ever-more-intricate designs on Charlie's arms, he waved his other hand at the wheel. Charlie felt the spikes start to pierce his skin like needles. He dug his fingers into the arm of the chair, his booted feet into the rug. The spikes dug into his muscles as he flexed them against the pain. His hips tried to rise from his seat of their own accord. 

Charlie moaned. 

Vlad grinned, and took the Wartenburg wheel away. "Yes, I think that will do very nicely." He paused, eyes sweeping from Charlie's toes to his head. "Hm," he commented, "You have behaved well, not moving while we speak, while we have even tried some toys. I would very much like you to remain still without restraints. Do you think you can do that?"

Charlie bit his lip. "I don't know whether I can, _domn_ ," he said, "but I can try, maybe."

"Is the restraint the point, young one? Do you like being tied up for its own sake? Is the feeling of immobilisation – or struggling against it – comforting or particularly exciting to you?" Vlad sounded less detached now; instead, he sounded curious and almost solicitous. There was heat in his gaze.

_I'm more than a meal ticket to him; playing with me is not just to win my compliance,_ Charlie realised. His head spun for a moment with the understanding, rendering him utterly malleable. He could see how easily he could be influenced at the moment, beginning to watch himself as if from afar. But for the moment, both Charlie-in-his-body and Charlie's-disembodied-logic agreed that he wanted to submit. 

"I don't know, _domn_ ," Charlie said. "It's always been there as part of the fantasy." He paused, considering. "But I'd not imagined what you ask. I would, I think, like to try for you."

"Excellent," Vlad murmured, and Charlie warmed, knowing he'd pleased his vampire.

They locked eyes, smiling at one another. 

"One more thing, _mici băiat_ ," Vlad said. "Or perhaps two. First, do you like the idea of being fucked? Or sucking someone off? Or the other?" 

"Any and all, _domn_ ," breathed Charlie, visions of shagging dancing in his head. "Whatever pleases you most."

Vlad smiled again, and, dropping the Wartenburg wheel with a clang, bent to run a hand down Charlie's face and kiss his lips gently. 

"I have one more request, young Charlie," he said after breaking away. "I like the respect with which you call me." He paused, assessing. Charlie's manner was already more open than the vampire had seen in a long time, especially as this was their first meeting. "I would like it even better if you would call me _Domnul_."

Charlie's brow wrinkled again, showing his confusion. 

"It means," Vlad explained, "ah – I forget. 'Great sir', I think."

"Master, _Domnul_?" Charlie suggested.

"Yes. _Master_." Vlad watched as shivers overtook Charlie. "You would like that." 

"Oh, _yes_."

Vlad nodded and stepped back. "You should call me ' _Domnul_ ' or ' _domn_ every time you speak to me while we play. If the play is too much, too intense, use my name. 'Vlad, enough,' or 'Vlad, stop.' Understand?"

"Yes, _Domnul_ ," Charlie said, eyes lowered in submission. He missed both Vlad's tremor of excitement and his slow, predatory grin. 

"Now, little man, stand."

Charlie stood a bit shakily. _I am really doing this – giving myself to a vampire for the night_ , he thought. He inhaled deeply to steady himself. 

"Remove your boots and shirt." 

Charlie crouched to undo his bootlaces, wondering vaguely why his _Domnul_ had asked him to stand _before_ doing so. He stood, pulled the saucy T-shirt over his head, then lifted his right leg to pull off his boot. He hopped twice but finally succeeded in getting it off. When he tried to tug off the left boot, however, he faltered. His arms swung, windmill-style, as he let go of the boot and fell forward. Vlad caught him. 

"That did not happen very well, did it?" Vlad commented. 

Charlie's freckles had long since drowned in the crimson of his flush. "No, _Domnul_ ," he mumbled. 

"Speak louder, Charlie," Vlad said, "or I might think you want to keep secrets." 

Charlie swallowed, trying to moisten his throat, his mouth. He licked his lips. "No, _Domnul_ ," he said. 

"Turn around," the vampire directed. "Lean against me while you remove your boot." 

"Thank you, _Domnul_." Charlie turned. 

Even through his shirt, Vlad felt odd. Though Charlie had shivered at the brush of Vlad's lips, he'd not registered how different it would be to press against a body the temperature of the air around them. He tilted, hips then lower back, before curling down to reach his heel. He could feel the pressure (though not the coolness) of Vlad's prick behind him. 

Boots removed, Charlie leant back further, thinking to propel himself upright. Vlad, however, used that moment to wrap a strong arm around Charlie's torso; Charlie's head fell back onto his lover's ( _Can I call him that?_ ) shoulder. 

"You have ink," Vlad said. "It is very rococo." 

Charlie started. He'd forgot about the tattoo next to his shoulder blade. _Fuck_. He'd thought the embarrassment of it would be over now that he no longer had to face his Quidditch teammates in the changing room. 

"It is, _Domnul_." 

"Tell me." Vlad's voice had a dangerous edge as he whispered into Charlie's ear. "Who is your 'N.T.'?" 

By now, the heat of his blushes occurred in waves, spreading across his face then ebbing like the tide. "A bird I'd fancied myself in love with," Charlie said. "Threw me over to concentrate on making the Auror programme." 

"But Charlie," Vlad's chuckle sounded utterly amused, "I thought you loved _cock_." Vlad ground his own into Charlie's rear as he moved his other hand to embrace Charlie's restrained erection. 

Charlie moaned, unsure which of the sensations he wanted to maximise. "She was –" he gasped "—a Metamorphmagus."

"Fantastic creatures, those are," Vlad said. He let go of Charlie's cock and torso and spun him around. He trailed his hands up Charlie's thighs again before reaching back and squeezing his bum. "Did you take turns, then, fucking each other?" 

"Yes, _Domnul_." Charlie felt his blood rush to his face again; likewise, the heart on his back reading ' _C.W. & N.T. ~Forever~_' pulsed. It had more life to it now than at any time since he and Tonks had split. Who knew tattoos might react so strongly to memory and suggestion?

_Was that my imagination, or did Vlad just groan?_ Charlie absently asked himself, the question collecting and dispersing like flour in a sieve. 

What Vlad was doing, inexorably, undeniably, demanded his attention; why nitpick about the details when the only things that kept their movements from being a full-on shag were a layer of leather and a layer of wool?

Charlie closed his eyes and whispered, "Please, _Domnul_. Please." 

"What, please?" Vlad responded. 

"Please, _Domnul_ , use me, hurt me, fuck me, just fucking do _something_!" Charlie's voice cracked from desperation. 

Much as he had at the edge of the dance floor, Vlad abruptly released his hold on Charlie. As Charlie stumbled, regaining his balance, Vlad said, "Remove your trousers and stockings." 

Charlie did so, trying _not_ to feel embarrassed by the sound of leather peeling off his sweaty legs. When he stood naked as a babe before the vampire, he shivered.

"Do you feel cold, young Charlie? We can make more heat."

"No, _domn_ ," Charlie said, trying to put fantasies of various ways to 'make heat' out of his mind. "It's just anticipation, that's all." 

"Ah," Vlad said, nodding. "Then we must begin. Walk to the centre of the room, sweet boy." 

Charlie walked across cold flagstones to the spot Vlad had indicated.

"Perfect," said Vlad. The praise washed over Charlie, causing yet another shiver. "Now, I think you have a good level of magical power. Is this truth?" 

Charlie shrugged. To his knowledge, his 'power' had never been measured. "I don't know, _Domnul._. I've never had trouble conducting a spell once I'd got the theory and technique correct." 

"And...stamina?" Vlad continued, stalking round and round Charlie. "Can you maintain a spell over a lengthy period without needing to concentrate strongly?" 

Charlie thought. He could keep his broomstick aloft for hours, maintain a _Lumos_ for even longer if necessary. "Yes, _Domnul_ , if it is not too difficult." 

"Perfect," Vlad said again, this time barely murmuring. Charlie wondered whether the vampire knew any other superlatives. "What we will do, then: I will levitate you to a good level, and you will make a Hover Charm on yourself. I will play with you that way for as long as you can hold it... or until I want different."

Charlie thought his eyeballs might fall out and roll across the floor if his stare grew any wider. This was certainly not a use Professor Flitwick had ever mentioned. Charlie was nervous: he'd never cast something like this on himself before. He shook himself back to attention. 

"Yes, _Domnul_ ," he rasped. 

Vlad smiled at him. " _Wingardium Leviosa_!" he said with an easy swish and flick, and Charlie found himself floating mid-air. "Make your Hover Charm now, Charlie," Vlad commanded. 

Charlie cast. 

Beneath him he heard...not a sound, exactly; it was not a _thump_ or a _pop_ , or anything like that. It was, rather, more of a _muffle_ : an absence of sound that would only be noticed in direct contrast to the absence of sound it _replaced_. 

"Ah," Vlad remarked. "Our little room has given us a mat – just in case you fall, perhaps, or if we need a rest. It is below you." 

Charlie found himself frightened of disturbing his equilibrium by nodding. "Yes, _domn_ ," he said shakily. 

"Let's start again with the wheel," Vlad said, pretending it was a mere suggestion. Of course, it wasn't. Vlad first licked the blood that had spilt and clotted on Charlie's arms. No fangs; Charlie felt the bluntness of front teeth scraping up the now-pasty blood. He closed his eyes and breathed. 

The very first motion of the wheel was just a tickle, but soon turned into a steady series of bites running underneath his clavicle to trace the centre of his chest. The pressure grew so gently that Charlie didn't startle at all. Rather, he moaned. His moan surprised him; it was strangely high-pitched and breathy for a bloke and betrayed his desire as only a sound from his very soul could do. His prick, which had fallen a bit while they negotiated Charlie's 'suspension', was filling with blood again. 

He was _all_ blood, Charlie suddenly knew: blood in his cock, in his veins, underneath his skin in his blush, seeping through the holes the wheel had made. It rushed in his ears and created the lines in his eyelids. Every part of him was available as a canvas (or fountain) for a vampire to exploit. Charlie felt the blood throb in his nipples as the wheel perforated large circles around them, in his jugular when it ran over his shoulders, and (incessantly now) in his cock. 

All his blood pulsed for his _Domnul_. 

And that intensity was nothing — _nothing_ — compared to the sensation of Vlad's tongue tracing the figures drawn in bloody indentations, cold meeting heat. It was nothing to the feeling of Vlad's lips closing over the tiny wounds in open-mouthed kisses as he lightly sucked the small amount of blood available; nothing to the joy of Charlie's skin as it closed when Vlad's mouth left. 

Charlie had been concerned, at first, that the work of powering his own Hovering Charm would distract him, keep him from really _feeling_ the pain and pleasure of the moment. But _this_ was Charlie feeling every prick of the wheel, every suck of the mouth _amplified_ by the magic lazily wrapping around him, _magnified_ by his determination not to move. The chant of "don't stop, don't stop," that dripped at times from his lips was mere spillover from the cup of passion keeping him aloft. 

He did not float away. He did not bottom out. He remained, active and insistent in every moment. He was pleasing his _Domnul_ with his show of unwavering consent. 

The vampire's caresses of wheel, mouth, and hands grew harder. His motions, bit by bit, were growing frenzied. 

"Charlie, my Charlie," he gasped as he moved from the swirls he'd painted on Charlie's abdomen back up to Charlie's ear. _Yes, I'm yours,_ Charlie shouted silently as he opened his eyes to his _Domnul_ 's face. 

For the first time Charlie saw Vlad looking like a storybook vampire. His face was still pale, _ghostly_ white now, in startling contrast to the dark locks which seemed to dance around his head. His fangs were extended, gleaming white when compared to the pink-tinged teeth beside them. His lips were stained red, a trickle of blood – _Charlie's_ blood – running down his chin.

Charlie's hips canted. " _Domnul_ ," he moaned, eyes glazing over for a moment as he saw his darkest fantasies realised. A slight tremor in his magic brought him back. 

Vlad's own pupils were blown in desire. Casually, he sent the wheel back to the tray and Summoned, silently, the knife. He stroked the blade, the eroticism unmistakable, as he brought it into Charlie's line of sight. When he tapped the tip rhythmically with a finger, a tiny drop of blood soon sitting on each, Charlie's control wavered again. 

" _Please_ , _domn_ ," Charlie begged. 

"You want this?" Vlad asked, presenting the knife horizontally, "Or this?" He held up his finger for Charlie to acknowledge before dotting Charlie's nose with it. 

"Yesss," Charlie hissed, tears rimming his eyelids.

"Mm? What was that, _băiat_?  > " Vlad's voice hardened as he stepped away.

Charlie blinked once, twice, clearing his head. "I'm sorry, _domn_ , Yes, I would like them, _please_ , Domnul."

"We must always remember the polite ways, yes, young Charlie?" 

"Yes, _Domnul_ ," Charlie said, chastened. "Please, _domn_ , please forgive me." 

Vlad nodded his head, stepped forward, and kissed Charlie's forehead. " _Bun băiat_. You learn well. Now, I want you to spread your legs apart, if you please."

"Yes, _Domnul_." Charlie experimented a bit, moving first one leg very slowly, then the other. As they parted, Vlad moved between them. 

"I am going to raise you a bit, Charlie. Just keep making the Hover Charm." Before Charlie could respond, he felt a breeze indicating his motion. 

_Fuck. The power._

"I am to write on you more, small one. I will write on your legs. And I would like to suck you, too: some blood, but more... _sămânţă_... seed. May I?" Again, it sounded like a request, but was most likely a formality. 

_Etiquette._

Charlie couldn't have said 'no' if he knew his life depended on it. He wouldn't have wanted to; he wanted nothing more than to keep being decorated, tortured, _used_.

" _Domnul_ , that sounds more exquisite than I deserve," Charlie said, "but _fuck_ , it sounds amazing. Please, _domn_ , please write on me, please suck me, please hurt me or pleasure me..." Charlie took a shuddering breath. "Please, just _keep going_." 

Charlie heard Vlad's low chuckle again and shivered. _Too sexy, he is. How on earth did I manage to find him?_

The thought was lost, though, as he felt a cool suction at the tip of his cock. Of course, Vlad's mouth _would_ be cold. This time, Charlie's shiver was a mixture of anticipation, cold, and terror. 

The anticipation and yes, that was curiosity, far outweighed the fear, though. Charlie steadied himself, steadied his magic, and tried to relax into the pleasure. 

Vlad was an _excellent_ cocksucker. Not that Charlie had many comparisons, but the way he was playing Charlie's still-stiffening organ was exquisite. His tongue seemed longer than anyone else's Charlie had seen, and it could wrap into almost a tube around Charlie's shaft. Vlad also, from time to time, dragged his teeth down the shaft from his bollocks ( _Vlad can reach my bollocks!_ ) to the edge of his crown, the fangs themselves acting as a break once they reached the underside of the head.

Charlie's fraenulum was pushed down, his entire cockhead caged by teeth. It was the hottest, most vulnerable sensation he'd ever had. Vlad sucked at the crown he'd trapped, pulling yet more blood into the already-swollen corona and glans. _Fuck_ , it was starting to hurt. Charlie's entire penis was more sensitive than it had ever been. He began to writhe, even as he gave more power to his Hover Charm. He wanted to fuck Vlad's mouth so very badly, but his entire penis was being controlled by the teeth around the head, the hand tugging his balls and... _fuck_. Vlad had just slid the blunt side of the knife to press on Charlie's perineum. 

No, Charlie could _not_ afford to snap his hips. In fact, he could no longer afford to wriggle. 

Panting, he brought himself under control again. 

Sweat dripped down the sides of his face and off his shoulders and waist. 

Vlad finally stopped his infernal sucking at the tip and was now using the more common fellatio technique of using his lips to cover his teeth as much as he could as he swallowed and pushed out Charlie's cock over and over. 

And then he stopped, and removed his hot mouth. Well, warm mouth. It had adjusted to the temperature of Charlie's cock, but still wasn't the hot cavern Charlie usually expected. Surely not as hot as Tonks' mouth, nor Pye's. Warm nonetheless, though; warm enough that Charlie's cock itself seemed to shiver from the contrast of mouth and air. 

Then the knife's tip pierced Charlie's thigh. _When did it move?_ , Charlie thought before giving up the question as a bad job. The knife was where it was, and seemed to be cutting designs of knots and vines around his thigh and then down the inside. The blood dripping down his leg tickled. 

"Shame – shame to waste even a drop, _Domnul_ ," Charlie gasped. "Why aren't you drinking?" 

Cruelly, Vlad blew on his wounds, bringing Charlie's attention even closer to them as they cooled and then burned brighter. "What drips is caught," he said, "but I shall not drink until this lovely work is finished." With that, he moved to the other side. 

Charlie focussed on the sound of his blood dripping into some container as Vlad carved the same design into his left thigh.

When he was finished, Vlad stepped back, almost as if to admire his work. Of course, admiration would not have required him to entirely remove himself from within the V of Charlie's legs. 

"Now, my Charlie," Vlad said smugly, "it is time for me to lick you clean." And so he did, starting with the rings around Charlie's upper thighs – almost at the point where hip joins leg. First the right leg, then the left; the sensation ( _almost_ familiar now) of his skin reuniting with itself after being cleaned of blood by the cool, able tongue sent sharp tingles up Charlie's spine. Sharp tingles travelled to his cock as well. 

It twitched. 

Charlie felt more than heard Vlad's chuckle when that happened, the cool air snuffling between Vlad's nose and his own skin a dead giveaway. The second time his cock twitched and Vlad laughed, however, Charlie felt it _in_ his leg, as Vlad's neck and cheek were pressed in the inside of his thigh, trying to sop up every bit of Charlie's juice. 

All of it served to remind the redhead of his position as Vlad's plaything for the evening. The thought firmed his cock yet again. _Truly, the calisthenics my penis is performing tonight ought to get me out of_ some _of my exercise routine tomorrow!_

The last of Charlie's wounds healed, Vlad took Charlie's arse in his hands again to bring it closer to his mouth and control the young man's movements. "Do you know what I drew on you?" Vlad inquired. 

" _Domnul_ ," Charlie said, "it felt like vines, knots, flowers."

Vlad stared at Charlie a moment. "I am not so good with making pictures, then," he said, "or perhaps you do not do well with feeling shapes instead of seeing."

Charlie blushed with blood that seemed impossibly available, given how much of it had been occupied elsewhere. "What did you draw then, _Domnul_?" 

"I drew scenes for you of _Zgrimties_ \-- old magic people, like you – dancing with the _bălaur_ , calling upon the _bălaur_ , and riding with them."

"Oh, _Domnul_ ," Charlie breathed. "You drew on my legs an homage to me and my work?" 

Vlad sniffed. "Perhaps not an homage," he said, "but an acknowledgment of your talents and virtue." 

Charlie smiled at Vlad's parsing of the semantics. It _was_ an homage. 

"And now, sweet boy, I plan to taste more of you." 

"Please," said Charlie, and anticipated the coolness of Vlad's mouth again. 

This time, though, the mouth was warm from its earlier use around Charlie's penis and from the hot blood it had been sucking from the carved dragons and wizards on Charlie's legs. The texture was different – Charlie could feel the stickiness of blood mingling with slick saliva in a way that made the friction that much sweeter. 

Vlad's head bobbed up and down, as though he weren't the _Domnul_ here, but a body-servant instead. His lips stayed rich and wet, his suction varied enough to keep Charlie both interested and on-edge, his tongue alternated between tapping and stroking. Two fingers massaged Charlie's balls whilst another prodded at his perineum. 

It was fucking overwhelming. Fucking glorious, too. 

And just as Charlie gave up on the possibility of being allowed to come from this blowjob, Vlad pulled to the crown of Charlie's cock, moved the hand on Charlie's arse to grip his cock instead, and gave a huge suck before _piercing_ the ridge of the corona with his fangs. 

Charlie came like a flying carpet. 

This, of course, led him to finally lose control of his Hovering Charm, but Vlad must have anticipated this, as he supported and guided Charlie's body down to the mat, his mouth still swirling Charlie's semen around the cock that had provided it. When Charlie was settled (or as settled as a convulsing human could be), Vlad popped his mouth off and released the mix of semen, spit and blood into the blood already collected in one bowl. He combined the second bowl of blood with the first and mixed the fluids together with his index finger. 

"Are you well, _dulce băiat_?" the vampire asked. 

"I'm bloody _magnificent_ , _domn_." Charlie's tremors were receding, and he wondered at the effectiveness of blowjobs. Why was it that only the bit of pain made it possible for him to finally come?

"Perfect," said Vlad. "My sweet boy, I would like to give you a more…lasting decoration. May I?" 

" _Domn_?"

"I have given you two piercings on the head of your cock. I would like to give you…jewellery for them. But if you prefer, I can just lick the piercings once more, and they shall heal, like all the other bleeding marks I have given you." 

That statement helped Charlie realise that it _was_ odd that his cock still hurt. 

" _Domn_ , how long will my piercings pain me?" Charlie asked. 

Vlad's face and voice softened. "They will not. I will lick the rings before I push them through. Is that fair?" 

Charlie's cock twitched again, the greedy thing, at the idea of feeling the pleasure of Vlad's spit _inside_ his skin. His nipples almost cried out in their envy. " _Fuck_ yes, _Domnul_ ," he groaned. 

He was not disappointed. The skin healing around his new, cold jewellery tingled and shuddered, engaging in a dermatological dance of elation. Charlie had to hold his joyous cock in place for Vlad to add the second ring. 

"And some chain to join them, hmm?" Vlad said, clamping the open ends of such a chain around the rings. 

_Fuck_ , the chain pulled tight as Charlie's cock filled with blood yet again. And yet Vlad laughed. 

"Hm," he said. "I think I should not be able to tug at that easily, now. I shall need to add a longer chain, yes?" 

Charlie's answer was a keen. He was beyond language, thank-you-very-fucking-much. 

Vlad nodded to himself, and attached a length of the delicate chain, perhaps fifteen centimetres, to the first one. He tugged at the chain, pulling Charlie's cock downward. Charlie's cock pulled back, insisting on its travel up toward the belly. 

Charlie kept on keening, occasionally moaning, as Vlad played tug-of-war with his cock. He had no role here but to take it, and why did this feel so good? 

_Does it fucking matter?_ Charlie's inner voice asked, and he had to concede it did not. He also realised that he had the freedom to pay attention to the sensations and to his submission, since he was no longer holding himself aloft. 

_Brilliant_. 

It felt like hours, or perhaps seconds, before Vlad bored of his game. The two of them had begun to stare at one another, sharing expressions of submission and triumph, joy and satisfaction, adoration and possession. Volumes of conversation took place in those quiet moments of cock-bondage. 

"Charlie," Vlad said at last. "Stand and undress me."

Shakily, Charlie stood and approached the vampire, who had already gained a bit of colour to his cheeks. "You are lovely, _Domnul_ ," he whispered. "I'm so excited to see all of you." 

Vlad smiled indulgently. "I know you are. Just as I have been excited to see all of _you_."

Charlie started at Vlad's collar, unbuttoning his shirt and cuffs. He slid the soft shirt off Vlad's shoulders and folded it. 

"Good boy," Vlad said, and sent his shirt to the side of the room where Charlie's lay.

This ritual repeated for every article Vlad wore, from neck to boots. Charlie kissed his _Domnul_ 's feet as he exposed them. As Vlad sent the boots across the room, Charlie tugged down the trousers. He let his hands skim up Vlad's soft, cool legs on the way to his pants. 

Soon such trousers and pants were likewise sailing to the collection of clothes, and Charlie was, without being told, returning to his mat. 

Seeing Charlie resume his supine position, Vlad snorted.

"I want you to roll over and pull your knees under you so that your buttocks are lifted."

Charlie swooned at the mention of _buttocks_. 

"I plan to fuck you," Vlad continued once Charlie was in the proper position, "but we shall first make you prepared: open and wet for me. Do you understand?" 

"Yes, _Domnul_. Please go ahead!" 

"To get you nice and wet, I will lick you. I will also use your own fluids: your blood and your seed with my spit. Do you understand?" 

_Fuck_ , that was hot. "I understand, _domn_." 

"It will not feel like any oil you have used," Vlad warned, "but I find it just as useful, and for me it is much more delicious." 

" _Yes, domn_." 

Vlad chuckled, as he had done, and knelt behind Charlie. He used both hands to pull Charlie's cheeks apart. 

Charlie gasped and thrust back wantonly when Vlad's pointed tongue hit his anus and began to lick around the rim. "Oh, _Domnul_!" he cried. He felt the vibration of Vlad's muffled laughter along the tongue playing around his arsehole. "This is...fantastic! Please, don't stop! Don't stop!" 

As Vlad progressed, Charlie continued to chant "Please, please, please," until he was certain that no other word had ever existed except that and ' _Domnul_ '. He was all arsehole, all arse...

And then Vlad pulled on the chain connected to his penis again. 

It was overwhelming, is what it was. His arse being favoured as his cock was tortured –such an absurd combination that Charlie's mind couldn't comprehend it and decided that it all just felt _good_.

Because Vlad was fucking him with his tongue and manipulating his prick at the same time. 

Eventually, however, that particular bliss had to end. For someone who did not need to breathe, Vlad gasped rather a lot. 

"Now, some wet for you," he said, and Charlie felt a long narrow finger ease itself into his passage with some viscous fluid. 

" _Ohh_ ," he moaned. 

"Yes, Charlie," Vlad whispered. "How do you feel?" 

" _Domnul_ , I feel so _good_. My arse loves you, I want more, can't I have more, please? I want to feel you choking me with your cock, it's shoved up so far." Charlie was thrusting his hips back to meet Vlad's finger, and squealed in frustration when Vlad's finger was removed.

"No need to worry, _dulce băiat_. Here, three fingers." Vlad introduced the second finger before the first, but only for a single thrust. Then it was three cool fingers slathered in Charlie's blood and come fucking him hard, curling around to find his prostate and, after massaging it a tiny bit, opening like a tripod before they slid out again. 

The chain around his cock was practically biting Charlie's fraenulum now. 

He wasn't complaining. It was sensation complementing the spreading of his arse. 

Finally, Vlad removed his fingers and a moment later, Charlie felt the cool cockhead covered in warm goo ( _He must have used a Warming Charm_ , Charlie thought) breach his rim. 

It was unlike anything Charlie had felt or even imagined before. The stretch burnt a bit, but it was soothed, somehow, by the coolness of Vlad's cock. The viscosity of the ersatz lube was more erotic than ought to be legal, and soothed what tears may have opened up with a combination of his own blood and his own semen. 

Vlad's cock, however, did not pulse like Augustus' had. It was hard, somehow, but it felt...rather like a dildo, actually. A very, very _impressive_ dildo, one that twitched and all, but not a living phallus. And yet Vlad used it to grand effect: the rotation of his hips, the aim at Charlie's prostate, all were right on target to maximise Charlie's pleasure. Even the frozen nature of the cock pounding his arse felt perfect, if odd. Charlie was being driven into with gusto, pinned and pinned again, with a hand reaching around to alternately torture and stroke his prick. 

Glorious again, this feeling. Charlie met each thrust of Vlad's hips by flexing his arse's internal muscles, admitting then squeezing Vlad's cock. His words left him, reducing him to grunts and gasps. 

"So...hot, Charlie. You are so hot, so beautiful, so delicious to smell..." Vlad's chest was cool as it pressed into Charlie's back, the brisk breath of the vampire whispering over Charlie's shoulders. "I want to taste you, finally," Vlad said.

Charlie moaned and tilted his head. "Fucking _bite_ me, _Domnul_! Take what you want!" 

Vlad tugged one last time on Charlie's chain before sinking his teeth into Charlie's jugular. The bite was quick, precise; Vlad's teeth slid in and out in a fluid motion. They did not stay; teeth themselves do not suck blood. Charlie wasn't sure why he'd expected them to stay in his neck. But the pain was quick and minor, compared to most of what he'd experienced that night. He did not come from having been bitten. 

What was surprising, compelling, was the difference that bite evoked in Vlad. Where he had mostly been controlled, Vlad now was driven by instinct. Charlie could feel the desire coming off his _Domnul_ in waves, and tilted his neck further, wanting this to last, wanting to please his _Domnul_ as much as he could with his gift of blood. He could feel the body atop him warming with his own blood, becoming more and more like a living creature rather than an animated corpse. 

As Vlad's body warmed, so did his passion. His hands reached around Charlie, first to pull at the chain, then to dig sharp fingernails into Charlie's nipples, pinching and pulling at them. "Should have –" Vlad gasped "—clamped or pierced these. Too lovely not to hurt." His hips snapped harder and harder, the lube starting to dry up inside Charlie so that the fucking burned again. 

Charlie reached under himself to work his own cock. Even with his limited experience, he could tell when a man was becoming entirely involved in his own sensations. 

The world exploded. Charlie was shocked, coming in short pulses onto the mat as Vlad battered his prostate. This was not the cock that had been working in and out of him for so long. No, this was Vlad's cock filled with _his_ blood and searing Charlie's anus, channel, and prostate with its stark heat. The third jab of the hot prick against his prostate hurled Charlie over the edge. 

Panting in ecstasy, Charlie let his torso slump to the mat. Vlad, noticing his lover's exhaustion, pulled his head up and licked Charlie's wounds shut. 

And then continued to bang him. 

Charlie was delirious in his joy. He had been fed from, and was being used as an object for Vlad's pleasure. It was a dream come true. 

When Vlad finally came, it was with a volcanic rush of heat and semen. Or so Charlie imagined; when Vlad pulled out, he went straight to suck up all fluids remaining inside Charlie. That tongue, that _fucking magical_ tongue, licked Charlie to sleep.

~♥~

Charlie woke up nice and warm, cuddling a blanket. He was on a soft mat, his arse, cock, and nips sore.

He grinned and turned around. He rubbed his eyes. Why was he alone in this room?

He stood, stretching, letting his back work out its creaks. He brought a hand up to his neck, but felt nothing where he'd expected a scar. 

Of course not. Vlad had healed him. 

If last night hadn't been a dream.

Charlie snorted, looking down. His morning wood might suggest that it _had_ been a dream, but for one thing: the piercings on either side of his crown. Clearly real, then. 

He padded over the warmed flagstones to his clothes and started to redress himself. Atop his boots lay a note in unfamiliar handwriting. _~Charlie~_ , it was addressed, though there was no other person present.

  
_It was quite lovely to play with you, my_ dulce băiat _. Your blood is as sweet as your body._  
Should you care to play again, or, as you say, fuck again,  
Do keep me in mind.  
You can find me at Cuib most nights – ask Antoniou to find me.  
Alas, I had to leave you and move under the ground before dawn.

_Take good care, Sweet Charlie._

_~Vlad_   


Charlie sighed. Yes, the invitation was open, but he felt oddly empty. The night had been a thrill, certainly, but...

 _Well,_ Charlie thought as he dug out his Portkey to the room Phil had let for them, _I suppose I shall have to come back, and see what sort of lengthier arrangement Vlad might want to make._

**~ Capăt~**


End file.
